


The Chance to be Alone

by sherlocked221



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-07-01 00:36:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: Richie and George don't get time to be alone with one another, until Richie makes time.





	The Chance to be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> probably historically inaccurate...

Neither Richie nor George lived in the kind of home they could invite the other to. That was the sad thing really. Sure, George’s parents wouldn’t have minded much if he’d brought Richie over, but with all his siblings, that wouldn’t really be fair. And Richie’s parents were a little too overbearing, even if he did live in the kind of place he would be cool with inviting George to. Basically, they were in this paradox where the only time they got to spend together was when they were playing at the same joint. And they certainly didn’t get alone time.

Money was short, so when they come into some, they didn’t get to use it. It went to their families instead. So, this, this was a very special occurrence, one Richie kind of felt guilty about. This money probably could’ve gone to the family. They’d done so much for him, sacrificed so much for him. And what was he doing? He was sacrificing them to spend a night with his friend. What kind of a son would do that?

But he scolded himself for that thought, because honestly, he didn’t really do all that much for himself. And this wasn’t a life-changing amount of money. It was enough to buy a hotel room for one night. A shitty hotel room in Liverpool, their home city.

They weren’t getting far away from home. They weren’t going on holiday. But they were leaving the world behind for one night, just one night.

Oh, but Richie hadn’t told George yet. He thought he’d make it a surprise. He thought of the smile on George’s face, one with his little vampire teeth showing. That would be a reward enough for the night. That seemed to make this little sacrifice of money worth it. He couldn’t wait to tell him.

The area Richie lived in was pretty rough. He kept his head down and walked fast. His mum had worried about him leaving the home without her. It didn’t matter to her that he was probably old enough to go out when he pleased. He was a boy that, in her eyes, really didn’t need to get into any trouble. He’d been a sickly boy, as she’d constantly remind him. He wasn’t well, she’d tell him. Well, his health didn’t really have an effect on him, and it wouldn’t make all that much of a difference if he was mugged. Without anything worth stealing- save for the money in his back pocket at that moment- he’d probably get roughed up no matter what. And having lived around there all his life, he wasn’t afraid. Very little could stop him from going to George’s house.

It always seemed noisy and full of music at George’s, whether it was playing or not. His mum loved music.

Richie strode up to the door, which was open, and politely knocked on it. He wasn’t just going to walk in. That would be something John Lennon would do, bloody arrogant guy, thought he owned every home of his friends. Not that Richie had anything against him. Actually, he liked John. He probably just got the wrong impression from other people. Of what he heard from George, who knew him better anyway, he wasn’t that bad a guy. Though George would probably say that arrogant is a good word to describe him.

Richie, in comparison, was quiet and gentle and certainly polite. He waited on the doorstep for a couple of long minutes, soon realising his knocks hadn’t been heard, but out of fear of annoying his friends and family, he didn’t knock again. It was instead by chance that George himself, the slender thing dressed in a plaid shirt two sizes too big for him and trousers that hung off his hips, walked passed the open door and saw Richie standing there. He paused and smiled so friendly. More friendly that he would have afforded anyone else.

“What yeh doing out there?” He asked.

Richie smirked. This is what he had been waiting for. He’d decided that he didn’t see George enough. Seeing him when he was with the rest of the Beatles or when he was hanging around certain pubs, just didn’t satisfy him. And he didn’t turn up like this enough either. He thought, then and there, it might be worth doing it more often, especially when George seemed quite pleased.

“Coming to see you.”

“No, I mean what yeh doing outside?”

“I’m not staying long.” He said with a smile, “And I’m hoping on taking you with me when I leave. Do yeh think your mum will have a problem if yeh stay the night?”

George suddenly neared the doorway, lowering his voice, but the smile on his face told Richie he was all up for it.

“Are yeh serious? At yours?”

“No. At a hotel.”

His eyes then widened.

“How did yeh manage to swing that?”

“Don’t ask. Now, go and get your things”

George didn’t have to be told twice, even though he worried. Hotel rooms cost money, and he had none, so was Ringo going to pay for him? No way, he didn’t like that. Course it was sweet of the boy, typical Richie, but George knew he wouldn’t be able to pay him back. It wasn’t fair.

Still, he also felt as though he couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to let Richie down like that, just because of his ow pride and politeness. He ran upstairs and packed a bag full of a change of clothes and a pack of cards. He also snuck into the kitchen to take some bread.

“Hey mum!” He called from there, “Richie’s here. Can I stay at his?”

He didn’t really hear the reply. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure where his mum was. He just heard a reasonably positive tone as he rushed to the door and joined Ringo in walking down the street.

They didn’t have a hotel in mind. They just started walking and hoped they might come across something. They considered catching the bus, but that cost money too. They were happy instead to walk with each other, where ever their feet may take them, because, for once, they were alone, they had no excuse to hang out together other than the fact that they wanted to. For once, they were two friends, just hanging out.

Well, friends… Both boys wished it could be more. After being around John and Paul for so long, the two guys in George’s band, they kind of got wind of this idea that guys could fancy guys. And then then sort of noticed just how attractive guys could be. Richie noticed George’s pleasantly slender body, his evil little mouthless smiles and shaggy handsomeness. He also loved watching the boy play guitar, as it seemed there was nothing Georgie could get more pleasure out of then coaxing gorgeous sounds from that instrument.

And George was totally taken by Ringo’s huge blue eyes. He also liked the way he looked in leather, his hair, the rings he wore, but it was those eyes, those eyes that melted George’s otherwise stole cold heart. As he walked along beside the drummer, he sometimes looked up and caught his gaze, and just seeing the blueness of them, made him smile.

“What?” Richie chuckled, “What are yeh laughing at?”

“Not laughing.” George said, as though he was lying. He wasn’t at all, but to tell his mate that he was gazing into his eyes, that was far too cheesy for his liking.

 “Yeah yeh are! What are yeh finding so funny? Do I make yeh laugh?”

“Yes.” George shot back, quite genuinely, “But in a good way.”

 “Oh good, that’s not worrying at all.”

“Worrying?”

“Ok, not worrying…” He trailed off. He wasn’t really sure what to say, nor what he wanted to say. He rolled his bright blue eyes and reached out to grab George’s tiny shoulders. Clumsily, he drew him into a sort of manly embrace, though he was sure, for a moment, he got dangerously close to pressing a kiss on his cheek. He wondered if George had even noticed.

Judging by the pink colouring his pale cheeks, he thought that he might have. But neither acknowledged it.

Had George noticed the way Ringo had gotten almost a little to intimate? No, he hadn’t, but any touch, like the affectionate hug he’d been pull into, was enough to make him blush. God, even if he wasn’t in love with this boy- which he was starting to fear was the case- he did love him, like a brother, like the closest mate he’d ever had. He hadn’t even realised he’d possessed so much love within him, but for Richie, he did. He couldn’t even explain it.

And now he felt as though he was becoming as bad as the cheesy love ballads his band avoided singing.

They walked for a while, until their legs hurt. Then they found a pub with rooms they could rent. The place was pretty rough, people in there drinking early enough to suggest to the boys that they’d been there for much of the day. It wasn’t the ideal place to ask for one room to share, but Richie cared not. He’d take the prejudices and slurs. He’d shoot every person a dirty look. For all they knew, these two boys could be brothers, yet they’d think the worst, because they were too drunk to have a clear thought. 

At the bar, George tapped Richie on the back.

“Just going to the loo.”

“Alright mate. Don’t be too long.” He chuckled back. As George left, Richie caught himself watching, fondly. He convinced himself it was to ensure he got to the loos safely, though was sure if anyone else saw that, they’d probably guess that he was certainly not that boy’s older brother. He couldn’t help smiling to himself, an inner voice practically screaming that he’d finally done it, he was finally going to get time alone with Georgie. 

And he knew how that sounded. If George was a girl and Richie had booked a hotel for them both, the implication would be that they would have sex. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mine. Well, this one had. Course, he knew what it may’ve seemed like, even to George (he so hoped George didn’t think anything of it.) But he hadn’t thought of having sex with George that night. That wasn’t what this was about. He’d hardly even told George of his deeper feelings really. It was sort of an unspoken mutual understanding they both had. They didn’t need to say it. 

No, this night was literally a chance to be with George for longer than a couple of minutes, before swarms of people joined them. 

“One room, please.” Richie told the owner of the bar. The man was a red faced, hard looking guy who seemed to judge everyone quite openly. He may not have seen Richie come in with George, but Richie felt as though he was judging him for that, those dark eyes of his narrowing as he took Richie’s money. 

There was some left over. Richie hadn’t exactly thought of dinner or anything like that. He’d literally just thought of getting into a hotel room and hanging out with his little mate. But now he had some money, just a little, just enough for…

“Could I also have a sandwich?”

He wanted to be quick. He wanted it to be a surprise for George. Bet he wasn’t expecting a whole night out. The owner shrugged and pissed off into the tiny, grubby looking kitchen as Richie reclined against the counter. He was feeling quite smug, treating this boy. Ok, this really was worth spending his well-earned money on something a little less… responsible for once.

Thankfully, the sandwich came before George came back, so Richie stuffed the thing into a load of tissues and hid it under his jacket. In his hand, he clung to the hotel key; his one chance at privacy with his friend, the one chance to block out the world. 

“Alright?”

He had been so excited, so distracted by the thought of getting into the room that he’d hardly noticed George’s return. 

“Oh, yeah, do yeh want to get going?”

George lowered his voice. Ringo understood why. “Yeh got a room?”

“Yeah. Come on.”

There was no second floor. All the rooms were in a second part of the pub, and there was only around three, none of which seemed occupied. The two boys could guess why as they got into their room. The covers on the narrow bed didn’t seem to be clean, the carpet was covered in so many stains that its normal colour was in patches and the en-suite, which they did actually have, was grotty. Proper grotty. 

Still, it was a room. It was their room that night. A soon as the door closed, they didn’t care what they could hear or see of the outside world, because they’d locked it out. For once, they were the only ones in the entire world that mattered…

…and they quickly realised they had no idea what to do.

“Sooo,” George hummed as he hazarded sitting on the bed. It dipped beneath him to such an extent, he felt as though he would be swallowed by the mattress, “What’s up?”

Richie smiled. Throwing the hotel room key on the rotting bedside table, he shrugged. “Are you hungry?”

George didn’t know how to reply. He was always hungry, but saying yes would mean that Richie would probably find him some food. He’d already bought them a room, that was all George could allow. 

If Richie had not already spent his leftover cash on a sandwich, which he produced before George could formulate an answer. Staring down at it, George was stunned into silence. 

It was just a sandwich. It shouldn’t have meant all that much. If anything, the hotel room was a bigger gesture than a bloody sandwich which Ringo could’ve made at home for all George knew (ok, he knew that Ringo hadn’t been hiding that thing under his jacket the whole time, but that wasn’t he point.) Yet George took it as though Richie was handing him a new guitar. 

“You…”

“I thought yeh might get hungry.” Richie said quite casually as he took up a seat on the opposite side of the bed. George held it in his long-fingered hands. He felt truly undeservingly spoiled. He felt simultaneously guilty and utterly flattered. 

He wished he had some way of showing Richie how much this meant to him, but the best he could think of was, “Share?”

Before Richie could reject the offer, which George knew he would do, George thrust half of it into his friend’s hands and stuffed a mouthful into his own face, as if to say ‘no take backs.’

After eating, George drew out a pack of cards. 

“What are we playing for?” He laughed.

Richie tapped his coat, as if checking for money, or something to play for. Of course, he had nothing. And neither did George. Or so they thought. 

“How’s about we play for a kiss?”

Richie didn’t hesitate, “Sure. If I win, I get to kiss you.”

“And if I win,” George laughed, “I get to kiss you.”

Neither were sure if the other really meant it, but somewhere inside them, it was no joke. George had suggested it, because he wanted some kind of intimacy with Richie, to show him, if he couldn’t tell him, how much he meant to him, which was certainly beyond his vocabulary by then. Richie agreed because he thought, why not? Why not try the whole intimacy thing, to see how far his attraction of George went?

And with this win-win situation, they were going to find out either way. 

“Best of three?” George suggested. 

Richie knew he was never all that good at cards, and George was a big cheater. Once, when he was playing with a mixture of the Beatles and the Hurricanes, George somehow produced 6 Aces. 6! Not even one more than should be in a pack, but two! And how they missed it, Richie will never know, as the design on the back of the cards were totally different to the pack they were playing with. 

He did, however, manage to bag the first game. The other two, as was expected, went to George, who smirked, glimpsing Richie as he collected the cards. He was recalling the wager. Did Ringo really mean it? Would he really…?

“So…” George hummed, “This kiss.”

“Yeah?” Richie replied, filing the cards into a neat pile, nervously. 

“Are we actually…?”

“Well, you have to… you have to kiss me.”

“True. Do you mind…?”

“Why would I mind?”

The awkward politeness had gone on long enough, George decided. It was just making him even more nervous. Because he was actually going to do this. Richie was still playing with the cards, shuffling them, the rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. George took the opportunity, as Richie’s attention wasn’t on him, to turn towards him, kneel on the bed and lean down. He caught Richie’s full lips with his own, quickly, chastely. And for that brief touch, his eyes fluttered closed. When he opened them, sitting back beside him, Richie was half smiling, staring at him with those bright, stunned eyes.

“That was nice.”

“That was.”


End file.
